----but let me not
anticipate. I say that I dismissed all thought of serious mischief, by
attributing at once all signs of it to the undue excitement of the
festive night. As the breakfast proceeded, I believed that her anxiety
diminished, and with that passed away my fears.

At the end of the pleasure garden of the parsonage was a paddock, and,
immediately beyond this, another field, leading to a small valley of
great beauty. On one side of "_the Dell_," as it was called, was a
summer-house, which the incumbent had erected for the sake of the noble
prospect which the elevation commanded. To this retreat Ellen and I had
frequently wandered with our books during the progress of our love. Here
I had read to her of affection and constancy, consecrated by the
immortal poet's song. Here we had passed delightful hours, bestowing on
the future the same golden lustre that made so bright the present. In
joy, I had called this summer-house "_the Lover's Bower_," and it was
pleasing to us both to think that we should visit in our after days, for
many a year, and with increasing love, a spot endeared to us by the
fondest recollections. Thither I bent my steps at the close of our
repast. It wanted but two days to the time fixed for the resumption of
our studies. The boys had returned, and the note of preparation was
already sounded. I carried my task to the retreat, and there commenced
my labours. An hour fled quickly whilst I was occupied somewhat in
Greek, but more in contemplation of the gorgeous scene before me, and in
lingering thoughts of her whose form was never absent, but hovered still
about the pleasure or the business of the day. The shadow of that form
was yet present, when the substance became visible to the bodily eye.
Ellen followed me to the "_Lover's Bower_," and there surprised me. She
was even paler than before--and the burden of some disquietude was
written on her gentle brow; but a smile was on her lips--one of a
languid cast--and also of encouragement and hope. I drew her to my side.
Lovers are egotists; their words point ever to themselves. She spoke of
the birth-day that had just gone by; the tranquil and blissful
celebration of it. My expectant soul was already dreaming of the next
that was to come, and speaking of the increased happiness that must
accompany it.

Ellen sighed.

"It is a lover's sigh!" thought I, not heeding it.

"Whatever may be the future, Caleb," said Ellen seriously, but very
calmly,